


Dancing in the Dark

by kitkat27



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Coma, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Head Injury, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkat27/pseuds/kitkat27
Summary: One Step Can Change Lives... That's What happened to JoOriginal Work all Characters are creations of my own imagination.





	1. Prologue

6.25. “Becky!”

“Yeah?”

“Where's my red heels?”

“I dunno...Why? Do you need them?”

“YES! David’s picking me up in like 5minutes.”

6.29. “Jo!”

“Yeah?”

“I found them...”

“Oh brilliant you’re a star, Becky thanks.”

“That's the door.”

“Oh rats! Phone, keys, bag, jacket... Do I look all right?”

Panic was starting to set in. For possibly the first time in my life, I had butterflies, which was weird because it wasn't a date. And yet I had a feeling like I wished it was. But that was a far-fetched dream which would never happen. I'd known David practically my whole life. I know his thoughts and mind, or at least I thought I did...

* * *

6.25. _Five minutes to get there. Plenty of time. The reservat_ _ion isn't until quarter to_ _seven. And because I really doubt that Jo will be ready on time._

I’m glad that after all these year we’re still friends. We've been there for each other through thick and thin, and I’m glad it’s going to stay like that - no matter what everyone else wants or thinks.

6.29. Walking up to the front door, he rang the doorbell. A light flashed on from upstairs, accompanied by a shout of "Just a minute!" It was a good thing he had thought to plan ahead and give her some extra time...

**"Jo! Watch - "**

**He could hear the panic in Becky's voice, but he had no idea what could evoke a reaction like that from the younger girl. However, the next few seconds explained it all. Time seemed to slow down. He heard a surprised shout from Josephine - he'd recognise her voice anywhere, even if he didn't know it was only her and her sister home. His heart stopped as the shout was followed by a series of muffled bangs and thuds. The fear held him in place at the silence following the last thud.**   
  


_"Jo!"_ **Becky's terrified scream pulled him back to reality. In the back of his mind he knew what happened, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.** _Manners b_ _e damned_ **, he thought to himself as he threw the door open. He had more important things to worry than appearing rude to the neighbours.**


	2. The Excuse

Once inside I was glad I hadn't been worried about the neighbours because Becky was sitting on the stairs next to the unconscious form of her sister, practically freaking out.

“David, phone for an ambulance.” Her voice quavered as she fought to hold back the tears.

“Yeah okay... Becky, what do I tell them?”

“What do you think?” She replied hotly. There was no time for any arguments or discussions, the phone call had to be made.

He answered the operator’s questions on autopilot. Try as he might, he couldn't process anything the woman on the other end of the line said. He was more concerned with the girl lying unconscious on the floor in front of him.

* * *

David stood up when the doctor approached them. Whatever he'd been planning to say died in his throat as he took in the doctor’s grim expression. "Is she......."

  
"Are you family?" the doctor asked, looking between the still seated Becky and David.  
  


"I'm her sister." Becky stated coldly as she stood up to fix the doctor with a glare. If he thought he wasn't letting her in just because she was a teenager he had another thing coming. She had more experience of hospitals than he'd believe. "He's -" she faltered slightly as she glanced at David. She knew the rules; if he wasn’t family they wouldn't tell him anything... Not without her parents say-so. Which would be unlikely - they'd pass responsibility off to another relative until they managed to get a flight back.  
  


 _The_ _excuse_ , Jo hissed in his head, _they_ _won't_ _know_ _any_ _better!_  
  


"I'm her boyfriend." he finished, praying silently that Becky wouldn't give the game away by looking shocked. "We were supposed to be going out for dinner..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He was still reeling over the fact Jo had appeared in his head - although if he was honest with himself he wasn't surprised. She was always the voice of reason. Originally, they'd come up with the excuse to get her out of a blind date. Now it was their safety net.  
  


The doctor studied him for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "She's in the last room on the left." He didn't need telling twice, he made to move past the doctor when a comforting hand stopped him. He looked up at the doctor again. "It doesn't look good. She's in a coma....it's every bit as bad as it looks." Then, he gave David a look that made him think that the doctor didn't truly believe that they were together.

_Well, yeah_ , he thought to himself, _what would she be doing with a guy like me?_

"Give her a reason to come back."  
  


* * *

  
  


"Did you ever do Biology in school?" The doctor asked Becky as David hurried towards Jo’s room.  
  
  


"I'm doing Higher Human. We've not got to the brain stuff yet.” She admitted quietly, wondering where this conversation was going. She’d never known a doctor to ask if she understood what he was saying. They normally just said it. “All I really know about that is stuff from documentaries and Standard Grade...it’s not much."  
  
  


The doctor nodded, as if this was what he’d expected. Looking down at his chart he began, "A fall like your sisters can cause swelling on the brain. And you don’t need me to tell you how serious that is. We'll do all we can, but she has to help us. I've looked at her medical record...if she decides she doesn't want to fight again there isn't much we can do."  
  
  


"You don't know my sister," Becky snapped, suddenly defensive. "She'll fight back. She’s not going to let this beat her." A life without Jo? That was incomprehensible.  
  
  


"Have you contacted your parents? I'd be happy to explain this to them before they get here." The doctor nodded before he spoke, the only apology she would get from the man who underestimated her sister’s will to live. The he continued on as normal. Impartial. She was just another case.  
  
  


Shrugging, Becky looked away from the doctor towards the door where David had disappeared. She didn’t want to be here with the man who wanted to make her face the odds; she wanted to be with her sister. "I...I didn't call before. We didn't have much to tell them. No point in ruining their holiday before I needed to."


	3. The Waiting Game

  
  


The next few weeks were spent mostly in a hospital room. Just waiting...hoping...trying.

  
  


The small room was filled with everything under the sun: books, CD's. Flowers, teddies and everything else that people could think of.

  
  


However, visitors to the room would find one object in the room very odd and out of place...a well used, battered and slightly wrecked CD player. It was one of Jo's most prized possessions. Anyone else would have chucked it long ago, but Jo hadn't. Didn't ever want to for that matter...

  
  


Her love of music came from her Granda. In his heyday, he had been in a group called the 'Train-Driver Trio'. They didn’t get very far, but his love of music had been passed down to Josephine. There was never a day when she wasn't listening, dancing or singing to the music.

  
  


It was her means to live.

* * *

The last thing I remembered was the look on Becky's face as I fell backwards. Stupid shoes. Really _stupid_ shoes. Why did I want to wear them in the first place? Oh yeah, because David loves me in red and he loves me in killer heels. Besides, the only way I can reach past his shoulder is in heels. It's his fault really...he's too tall.  
  
Becky will blame herself. I know she will. I'd turned around to talk to her when I'd fell. My fault really...I was too close to the stairs. I should know better than to take risks like that.  
  
I know I'm unconscious, and I know it's been a while... Sometimes something breaks through the fog, and I'm kind of aware of what’s going on. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep either.  
  
Mum and Dad have been in - sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in silence. I swear I heard her crying once. The girls have been here. They all came in at once. I think they were scared to be alone with me. Can't say I blame them. Going by the pain that sometimes seeps through, I must be a mess. Becky's been in too - I think she never leaves. She rambles on about everything - boys, life, school, whatever is in the magazine she has to hand. It's a dance we know well. It's been a while we've been here, and it’s scary how quickly the steps fall back into place.  
  
I don't think the one sided commentary has ever lasted this long before. I can hear it in their voices. They don't think I'm coming back.  
  
Sometimes I can fight through the fog just enough to get a glimpse of what’s going on. I want to wake up, but when I try it hurts. I set the alarms off once...it felt like my head was on fire. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. I wasn't even halfway conscious. There was a man in the room at the time, but I slipped back into the fog before I could figure out who he was.  
  
I wonder where David got to.

  
  


Maybe he finally figured out what I meant by 'damaged goods'. Even if he stopped by to say 'I'm glad you're not dead' I think I'd be happy. But then again, I might have just missed him. I have no idea how long it's been, and if anything slips through its only snippets at a time. Maybe I'm being too harsh...but if he hasn't visited I swear I’ll kill him when I wake up.  
  
After all, I'm his best friend.

* * *

As much as I tried to push this all away...this was my fault. Again. She might not wake up. Again. Because of me. Again.  
  
Déjà-vu. Already seen.  
  
I think that’s when I realised I loved her. When I was sitting in that damn waiting room, all I could think about was her smile. Her laugh. The way she had shook her head at my worries before she'd left. I was angry with her, how could I not be? But it was that kind of I-care-enough-to-be-pissed moments. She was always like that with me when I got drunk and text her random crap in the middle of the night. Or when I got into that fight and she had to come pick me up from the town. The police officer had actually looked at me with pity when she stalked up to us and levelled me with a glare.

  
  


Looking back, I'd thought she looked extremely hot when she was mad.  
  
I could've kicked myself for realising it too late. She was in the operating room, I was in the waiting room, and we had no idea if she'd pull through or not. I _had_ to pick that moment to have an epiphany.  
  
But she did wake up. She looked at me with that killer smile and told me I looked like hell. Kinda rich coming from her. I chickened out, feeling like then wasn't the right moment. She'd tell me I was just worried...overreacting to her being in hospital. But it didn't pass.

  
  


She came home...and I didn't do anything. I was happy with how we were. She got a boyfriend. I put the fear of God into him. They broke up. I held her while she cried. Nothing changed.  
  
And then this happens. I offer to take her out to dinner to cheer her up...and she falls down a flight of stairs. No wonder her parents hate me.  
  
So I just sit here...waiting, watching.

  
  


I should probably try talking to her, but I don't know what to say. Even when I think I know what to say, I get choked up before I can get anything out. The fact that her mum or dad, or _someone_ , is always is here doesn't help either. I suppose, after last time, they've never really forgiven me. I don't blame them. I still haven't forgiven me. If only I could be left alone with her for just two minutes... I'm sure I’d be able to say something - _anything_. Just to let her know I’m still here. Though if she actually hears me, that’s another matter.


	4. Its a Small World

  
  


It’s a lonely little world, here inside my head.

  
  


One of the things that keep me going is the music. Someone brought in my old CD player. I know because its sticks sometimes and they have to thump it to get it going again. The songs are on constantly. Guess they don't like the silence. Everyone who comes in changes it, so sometimes I only hear part of a song. I have no control over what's played.

  
  


It’s infuriating sometimes, being at someone's mercy. They mean well, but sometimes I think they're trying too hard.

  
  


Most people have ‘their; song. It helps me know who's there. Sometimes it’s just the style that gives it away, others it’s that one song, the one I always associate with them. But then, sometimes, it’s just random CDs. People feel like a change, or decide that something's too cheerful, or too depressing. Sometimes they stick something on and just let it play.

  
  


_Someone_ has a sense of humour. They put a Disney CD in. And it’s on repeat. I swear if I have to listen to _Its A Small Small World_ again I will wake up purely to murder them. Maybe that’s why they put it on...

  
  


Too bad it won't work.

* * *

She just lies there, while I ramble on about anything everything just so I don't hear the silence that’s here instead of her. When are you going to come back Jo?

  
  


I tried bribing her at first, but she didn't listen. Right now, I'd give the world to have her back. Normally, I'd be glad to get rid of her for a while. A big sister like mine is all right until she starts bugging you to borrow shoes. I mean those red heels were _mine_ before she stole them, just so she could try and be taller than _David._

  
  


I don't know what she sees in _him_ to be honest.

  
  


Personally, I think he's more trouble than he's worth. Even now, when she's unconscious and in a coma, he doesn't talk to her. He just sits there, trying to look sorry for himself. Putting on an act. I bet inside he'd rather be out on the town with his mates beating some guy’s brains out.

  
  


I remember the night Jo got a phone call to go pick him up from the police station after he got into a fight. I thought she was kidding to begin with! Then she went to pick him up - _I'd_ have left him there to sober up or called his gran. She'd have split him where he stood.

  
  


But no - not Jo. She went to pick him up in the middle of the night. Granted she put him in his place. Screamed at him for well over an hour. I think he must've got the quiet fury in the car - he looked _terrified_ when she brought him home.

 _A place to crash, I got you. No need to ask, I got you. Just get on the phone, I got you. Come and pick you up if I have to. What's weird about it, is we're right at the end, and mad about it. Just figured it out in my head. I'm proud to say, I got you.  
  
Go ahead and say goodbye. I'll be alright. Go ahead and make me cry. I'll be alright. And when you need a place to run to, for better for worse, I got you._  
  
Now that I think about they would make the perfect couple. They say opposites attract. He's a typical bad boy - motorbike, leather jacket, everything. But Jo's not so innocent herself. She definitely has a wild streak. She could tame him...put him in his place. He was the one who got her through her last break-up, no matter what anyone says. And they're both available _as such_.

  
  


“No, stop it Becky.” It just wouldn't work, they're _too_ different. Besides, Mum and Dad don't trust him after what happened last time.

  
  


"No, it's just -" But what if he could make her happy? I've never seen her try so much for a guy in her life. She doesn't let on whether or not she likes him, but I think she does. Even if she hasn't admitted it to herself yet. That's the only reason I can think of as to why he's still around...

  
  


" _No_." It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. Raising my eyes to Jo’s lifeless body, I suddenly fought the urge to laugh. “I’m arguing myself and you’re not here to laugh at me.”


	5. Hands Off

  
  


They trooped in like a group of soldiers,disrupting my train of thought and causing me to look up. Standing up, I gave them space to get near to the bed. It was common courtesy really. No-one said anything. Just a nod of thanks before they turned their attention to the still form in the bed. It never ceases to amaze me that every time they come in their first reaction is shock. How long has she been in here? They should have gotten over their initial reactions by now.

  
  


But then as I looked again at the face lying amongst the mass of pillows, wires and tubes, I could understand how they felt. A little bit inside of me dies every time I look at her. It’s not like she's a car crash victim with anything _visibly_ wrong. There are no scars at all, just a pale expressionless face against the backdrop of even paler pillows and sheets. It’s worse than visible scars because you can't see any signs of healing.

  
  


My thoughts of Jo's situation were interrupted by a large weight landing on my lap and a high pitched voice in my ear. That could only spell a five letter word called trouble.

“Hiya, Handsome!”

  
  


I was only half listening to April's ramblings. My attention was wholly concentrated on looking at Jo, silently pleading for her to save me with her _hands off_ glare. But as was becoming the norm recently there was no indication that she was listening.

  
  


It didn't even register what I was agreeing too... until it was too late. I had just agreed to out to a party with April on the only day of the year that I was meant to keep free.

  
  


How on earth was I going get out of this one?

I had been doing some research recently into comas and the effects on the patients. Suddenly, that obscure topic had become relevant. Supposedly their minds can blank out parts of what’s going on around them and I seriously hoped that now was one of those times.

  
  


But knowing my luck...

What did I do to deserve this? April of all people! I've never liked the girl. I _tolerated_ her because of Jo. Jo puts up with my more...undesirable friends. Even the idiots who constantly try to chat her up. It was the least I could do to repay the favour. But now I see I made a mistake in doing that. I didn't ask her to come over and 'make me feel better'. _I_ didn't get a choice in the matter.

  
  


* * *

“So...David?” April drawled, fluttering her eyelashes up at him.

  
  


“Yeah?” He asked hesitantly, trying to keep his eyes on Jo. He was totally oblivious to the intentions of the redhead in his lap, as he was with any girl when Jo was around. But that didn’t put her off. If anything, this was her best chance of getting close to him. Give him a much needed shoulder to cry on, a release from the stress of having a friend in a coma, and if things went further...well that was just par for the course.

  
  


“You doing anything _exciting_ on Friday?” She murmured as she slowly trailed her hand up his back, stopping to play with hair at the base of his neck.

  
  


“Friday? No, I don't think so.” When she locked her arms around his neck and shuffled impossibly closer his head snapped towards her. Looking down at her, he asked cautiously, “Why?”

  
  


Taking his change in attention as a good sign, April sighed, “Well my friends throwing this party... And she wants as many people there as possible...” As she spoke she lazily trailed a hand down his chest and tilted her head so that she was mere inches from his face. “Wanna go with me?”

  
  


"I don't know, April.” David shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to escape from her iron-tight grip. Hoping to let her down lightly he added, “Anyone I know going?"

  
  


“Well I think Glenn, B and Big Stevo are going.” She added as she carefully watched his reaction. She could see the longing to see 'people' and escape to some sense of normality. Deciding to use this to her advantage she added sympathetically, “It'd do you some good to get out. You haven't seen anyone in a while.”

  
  


"I've always been here." He was silent for a moment before he suddenly asked, "Wait what date’s Friday?"

  
  


“It’s the 17th right? There's nothing important on then.” However, she knew there had to be something on that date. If there wasn't anything on then he wouldn't have remembered it. Smiling to herself, she told herself that he was just realising how long he'd been there and let her hand drift lower.

  
  


“April..." She fixed him with one of the most pleading looks he'd ever seen. It was only topped by Jo's. Sighing he conceded, "It should be fine.”

  
  


“Awesome!" She grinned, jumping up and clapping her hands, as if she wasn't in a hospital room with her friend in a coma not six feet away. "I'll pick you up at two. You still stay with your Gran yeah?”

  
  


* * *

"Ha, what else did we expect?" April's laugh filtered through the fog, and I could tell she was shaking her head. "Typical David. Can't even go to a hospital without finding someone to flirt with!"

  
  


April kept laughing, totally unsurprised. Her laugh was good-natured, this was something totally typical of David. That boy would flirt with anything in a skirt. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I realised that I'd missed the next bit of their intriguing conversation, but with the next bit it wasn't too hard to figure out what they meant.

  
  


“Friday? No don't think so,why?” David’s voice filtered through the fog, making my stomach drop. He was here. Finally.

  
  


“Wanna go with me?” The excessive pleading in April’s voice made me cringe.

  
  


“Wait what date’s Friday” I knew he was trying to stall her and not disappoint her when he refused to go to whatever they were on about.

  
  


“It’s the 17th right? There’s nothing important on then.” Nothing important? I felt like waking up and screaming.

  
  


_NO Fridays MY day!_

  
  


“Should be fine.”

  
  


_Fine..._ That single word filled me with anger. I’d thought he was trying to stall her. Did he have any recollection as to _why_ he was actually in this room at all? Like the fact that I'd _stupidly_ fell down the stairs. Did promises between _best_ _friends_ no longer mean anything or something?

  
  


I mean I know I’m in here, and in a coma, and really not much fun to be around, but did he really need to go and move on with his life? The argument in my head went on, blocking out all sounds of the outside world. It’s not like he needs my permission to _date_ \- I hate that word - someone else.

  
  


...So why do I feel like my world just fell apart?

  
  

    
    
    _Said it all_
    _Nothing to say at all_
    _Nothing to say that matters_
    _Haven't we heard enough_
    _Said it all_
    _Nothing to say that matters_
    _Doesn't matter any more_

* * *

For years, it’s a secret that’s been kept between us.

The 17th of June is a semi-sacred date. One that we both keep clear in our diaries. It’s not because it’s a memorable date in our friendship or anything, well, not really. Unless you count spending the day crying my heart out to him. He's the only person who made me feel like he really cared. And he never complained once. Never. He was always there when I needed him.

  
  


How could he do this to me? One of the few days of the year that mattered. It was so special to both of us, the one day in the year where we got be with each other no matter what. The one day in the year where I could let my guard down and be _me_. Not shield, no pretences. No act. Just Jo.

  
  


I was close to my Granda. He was the one constant in my life. Until he wasn’t. It hit me hard, his death. I suppose I should have expected it on some level. He was old, he'd been ill...really ill. But I didn't expect him to die. I thought we had time.

  
  


He went downhill so quickly. I'd been sitting with him, trying to keep his spirits up. We'd been talking about the concert I'd been to the night before. I didn't want to go, but he'd made me. Told me that I was young and shouldn't put my life on hold for an old man.

  
  


That 'old man' _was_ my life.

  
  


Then he'd told me to go get something to eat. Said he wanted something “with substance”. I couldn't blame him; his dinner looked like something out of a horror movie. I was gone less than ten minutes, but when I got back to the room he looked grey. I went to get a nurse...the alarms started blaring before I'd even got halfway there.

  
  


The next hour was a blur. The only thing I'm entirely confident about is that the staff tried. They _battled_ to save him. Somehow, through the tears, I managed to call my parents. But they were at least three hours away. No one expected him to die that night. I'd told them I'd be fine to stay with him for one night while they went to a friend’s fiftieth birthday with Becky.

  
  


After I hung up, I ran. I had to escape the oppression of the room. I ran, and I didn't stop. Stopping would mean accepting the reality. At some point I stopped, gasping for breath as the sobs got worse. I collapsed against the cold wall, unaware of the fact I was outside. Not caring about the storm raging outside of the hospital. I was totally numb, feeling anything was too much of a chore.

  
  


Even now, I'm not quite sure how it happened. I somehow managed to call David. All I can remember is his worried shouts as I sobbed uncontrollably down the phone. I don't know how long it was before he found me, how long he must have searched. I couldn't form a sentence, far less tell him that my whole world had collapsed around me.

  
  


The first thing I felt that night was his strong arms around me as he lifted me up from the ground and carried me back inside. His whispered words into my hair were like a lifeline, pulling me back from the brink of insanity. Somehow, I ended up back at his, wrapped in his duvet while his grandmother forced a steaming cup of tea into my hands. I didn't have to drink it, she said, it was just to take the chill away.

  
  


I don't think he slept that night. Eventually I drifted off, long after my tears had run out, but when I woke up he looked like hell.

  
  


We never really spoke about it afterwards. He just made sure I was actually going to make it home alive before he reluctantly let me go. After that he made sure I knew he was my _designated_ shoulder to cry on, and I never had quite managed to repay him yet.


	6. Come Back

  
  


"Look." She was desperate. Her voice was laced with panic as she begged me to listen. To reconsider. She knew this wasn't a complication from my fall. This was me giving up. As morbid as it was, I was glad someone had clicked. Someone knew that this was my choice, and that I was making my own decisions now. I was the one in control. "Don't do this."  
  
 _No_ _._ I answered silently. I couldn't move, couldn't interact with her, but I could at least pretend. _I'm taking control. I have to do this._ The bleeping on my heart monitor slowed. Not long now...  
  
"Jo!"  
  
 _What?_  
  
"Where the hell did this come from, huh?" She was mad now. Mad that I was giving up, that I was leaving her. That I wasn't going to stand up and fight. The panic and terror was replaced by anger as she started shouting at me. Looks like she'd decided to try a new tactic. Or maybe she just found it was easier to be angry at me. "What did you hear?"  
  
 _You don't want to know._ My heart rate picked up a little, then dropped again. Why did my body have to give me away? At least she knew I was listening.  
  
"So you did hear something." I could imagine her nodding; glaring at me like it could change anything. "It was April wasn't it..."

  
  


My heart rate picked up again, but didn't slow down like it had before. Images started flying through my head. April and David at the party. April sitting on his lap. David leaning in to whisper something in her ear. David brushing her hair out of her face. David leaning in to...  
  
 _Beep. Beep. Beep._ _Even my heart rate sounded angry._  
  
"So that's why you're doing this?" She snapped, letting out a hollow laugh. She grabbed my shoulders, and for the first time I could _feel_ it. Really feel it. I felt it when she shook me, and my heart leaped in excitement. I could feel things. I could...  
  
"He doesn't matter! Whatever he did... It doesn't matter! There is more to your life than some egotistical bad boy!” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. I knew what her opinion on David was, and I hated to admit that she’d been right about him the whole time. “You have friends who care about you, family. Hell, some of _his_ friends would kick his ass if he hurt you! And for what it’s worth, she was the one doing all the flirting. He just sat there. Maybe he should've pushed her away, I don't know. But right now, he's not here. Said he had to go get something, but personally I hope he goes and takes a running jump off a cliff."  
  
Internally I smirked. That image was looking so very tempting right now. If it wasn't for the fact I was in a coma, I'd go help him. And April. It would look like a lover's suicide pact...  
  
"But since that's not going to happen," _Ruin my fun then_ _._ "I have a better idea. Come back."

  
  


She seemed to lose momentum as she reached those last words. It was a plea. A desperate plea for me to reconsider. She didn't want to lose me, no one did. But I was stuck here. I was in a coma. I had no control over anything. The way forward would be hard, so _so_ hard. But I wasn't going to be alone. I knew I was stronger than this.

  
  


I didn't _want_ to take the easy way out.  
  
She took my hand, grasping it tightly as she whispered, "Show them what you're made of. That you're not just going to roll over and take it. _Fight back_."

  
  


I knew the moment her tears had spilled over. She gasped softly, and moved one of her hands to brush them away. They fell on my skin anyway. I could feel. And it didn't hurt. Maybe I could use the anger to my advantage.

  
  


"C'mon,” She whispered as my heart rate began to pick up a steady pace again. “I don't feel like attending your funeral just yet..."


	7. Flowers

It was the smell that got me first, the sweet aroma of flowers. I was in hospital, I got loads of flowers, but this was different. It stood out. The scent meant something to me, and I was pretty sure the flowers were right next to my head.

"Hey." David whispered as he sat down next to the bed. Even through the fog I could tell something was up with him. I imagined that he was fidgeting, looking anywhere but my deathly pale body. "Look, Jo, I..." He trailed off, hesitant and unsure of himself.

_Spit it out._

“Right,well, it’s the 17th today. I don't know if you know that or not... I went and got some flowers. I didn't really feel like going on my own, so I came in to talk to you first...” He trailed off again, and I heard him take a deep breath before he continued. “I don't know if you heard what happened the other day....but, well, April invited me to a party. Today. I'm sorry by the way. Anyway, as turns out, it was Kelly's party. And you know how much I like _her_.” He laughed sarcastically at the last bit. Well, he would have, if his laugh hadn't been so strained.

Kelly, how could I forget? That little Barbie wannabe. I didn't like her, never had. I had her sussed out from the beginning. I knew that she'd be trouble. He just didn't want to see it. I lost count of the amount of times I told him get out while he still could, but he didn't listen. She'd already got her claws in too deep. It proved my point really. Women think with their brains, men...well they prefer another part of their anatomy.....

“But anyways...yeah I'm going to go now, and do what we always do. It's going to be kind of lonely out there today. You're not going to be there. I guess that explains the story of our friendship, really, being there for each other, not matter what...” His voice quavered slightly before continuing “You’ve got to get better Jo...you've got to. I don't feel like spending next year alone too.”

  
  


I heard the chair scrape against the floor as he got up to leave, then a soft breath ghosting over my face, “I'm sorry..” He whispered softly into my hair. Then he surprised me by gently placing a kiss on my forehead. The effect it had on me was staggering, causing an irresistible urge wake up. I wanted to wake up now more than I ever had this entire time. Wake up and tell him to take me with him.

  
  


I really needed to talk to him. _Alone._

* * *

The long walk to the grave seemed even longer today without Jo, with the endless rows of pale grey headstones and the rain battering down. It did nothing to add to the mood. I finally found it. Not that I'd forgotten where it was. The single black marble headstone stood out against the backdrop of grey and green.

_In Memory of Jim McKay_

_1926-2003_

_A Loving Husband, Father and Grandfather._

  
  


This is what I had been searching for, the one person who listened to me...

* * *

The minute I walked into the room I could sense that something was different. Nothing seemed to have changed, but the atmosphere _felt_ different. Maybe Amy had managed to talk some sense into my stubborn sister.

Then I saw a single flower lying next to Jo's hand on the sheets. It was almost as if it had fallen out of a much bigger bunch, but I knew for a fact that there were no similar flowers in the room. Reaching down to pick it up, a slight movement in the corner of my eye stopped me.

“Jo?” I hesitantly asked. Suddenly, the steady beeping of the machines was deafening and the blood was pounding behind my ears.

As I was beginning to think my eyes were playing tricks on me, that I was deluding myself into believing she was waking up, the beeping intensified.

My head snapped towards the monitors, vainly trying to remember what they were all for and what exactly the change meant. I stared at the screens blankly for a few moments before the information on the screen started to make sense. Her heart rate and her pulse were increasing. Quickly. Part of me thought this was a good thing - her body had been slowing down for days - but then I realised she shouldn't be changing that quickly. Her body must be under some sort of stress, and that _wasn't_ good.

Biting back the bile that was rising in my throat, I looked back at my sister on the bed. At first glance, she looked so calm. But then you started to _look_ and you could see that her eyes were moving rapidly under their lids. I could only hope that it wasn't a nightmare, that whatever she was seeing didn't push her over the edge...

The sheet rustled, and my gaze gravitated towards the sound. I blinked a few times to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating, but after the third try it was still there. Her hand slowly moved towards me, blindly searching for something. I looked down in confusion and saw that she was moving towards my hand which was curled into a ball around the steam of the stray flower. My breath caught in my throat as her cool hand closed around mine.

As she clutched onto me for dear life, as if I was her anchor to this world, I suddenly felt a grin slide onto my face. She was waking up. After weeks, she was finally waking up. I was getting my sister back. I didn't notice that the room had been flooded with medical staff until I was unceremoniously pushed away from the bed and chaos descended on Jo. Letting out a breathless laugh, I staggered backwards and collapsed against the wall.

She was waking up. Jo was back. Everything was going to be okay.


	8. Wrong Room

Walking to the hospital the next morning was like clockwork. I'd done it so many times I could to do it in my sleep. In the front doors...along the corridor...second turn on the left...two doors along and then that’s it...you've made it. The ICU.

However, this morning something was different. When I opened the door the person in the bed wasn't Jo.

I froze in the doorway for a split second, barely taking in the shocked looks from the people next to the bed. Without a word I ran from the room, retracing my footsteps back to the wide empty corridor outside the nurse's station. I frantically looked up and down the corridors trying to find someone, anyone, who would know what was happening. Where on earth had she gone? I was only gone twelve hours! She couldn't be...

Banishing that thought, I suddenly realised that I hadn't seen Becky on my way in. That girl haunted these corridors more than I did. She was part of the scenery. Becky would know what was going on. I fumbled for my phone, somehow managing to spill the entire contents of my pocket onto the floor. Cursing under my breath I stooped to pick everything up with one hand while scrolling through my contacts in search of Becky's number with the other.

The few seconds of dial tone before Becky picked up were agonising, but when she picked up there was a marked difference in her voice. She seemed...happy. “David. Hey. What -"

“Where's Jo?!” I demanded, not giving her a chance to finish her sentence or trying to figure out why she seemed happy. There were much more important things to worry about.

“I'm right here.” A familiar voice laughed from behind me. My heart skipped a beat and I spun around to the source of the voice, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me. As I locked eyes on Jo sitting in the wheelchair, grinning broadly at me, I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping. My face must have been a picture because her eyes lit up with mischief and she bit her lip to stop her laughter bubbling over.

“Jo.” I managed to choke out after a long moment, tuning out Becky's frantic voice on the other side of the phone. For the first time in my life I felt nervous. This time, a giggle did escape and she looked up at me expectantly. “Hi.”

The second the words were out of my mouth her face fell and I mentally kicked myself. She's been in a coma for months and the only thing you can say to her is 'hi'. Pull yourself together. Taking a deep breath I slowly walked towards her and crouched down in front of the wheelchair. I glanced down at my hands, steeling myself for the realisation that this was all a dream. Taking her hands in mine, I ran my thumb over her pulse point, reaffirming that she was really alive. When she didn't disappear, I looked up and grinned. "You stood me up. Twice."

"Well, I guess I'll have to make it up to you then, won't I?"

* * *

I’ve got to admit that he did look rather stupid standing there in the middle of the corridor with a shocked look on his face. With his mouth hanging open, he really did look like a goldfish. From where I was sitting, I could just make out Becky shouting at him through the phone, her voice getting higher with panic as David didn't respond. This was one of those moments where you wish you had a camera because you never want to forget that look. However, I was pretty sure that his face is going to be burned into my memory forever.

“Jo” He finally choked out, and I felt my anger at his actions return in full force.

_Yes, that's my name. Good start. Now let’s try for more than one syllable._ I giggled as the thought suddenly appeared in my head. It sounded like something out of a rom-com. The cheesy reunion scene that makes you just accept the fact you're going to die alone. I knew my sudden awakening would have come as a shock to him, but part of me wouldn't let his reaction - or lack of it - go. I'd been in a coma for months. The one time he visited, that I know of, he ended up setting up a date with another girl. On the day he was supposed to be with me! And to top it off, he took twelve hours to get here.

“Hi.” My stomach dropped at his second word. That was the best he could come up with? He's the reason I started to give up, he's the reason I came back, even if it was just to murder him.

Taking a deep breath he slowly walked towards me and crouched down in front of my wheelchair. I knew that whatever was about to happen was going to have a profound effect on our future relationship. It would make us or break us. He glanced down at his hands. Taking my hands in his he ran his thumb over my pulse point, like he was making sure I was actually alive. He looked up and flashed me his irresistible grin."You stood me up. Twice."

Grinning back I answered, "Well, I guess I'll have to make it up to you then, won't I?"

_What? Where did that come from?_

* * *

“So how’re you feeling?” I asked hesitantly, my mind blank of anything else to say. The minute the words came out my mouth I regretted it, but there was no time to apologise or take the words back. Before I could blink she had turned around to face me with anger burning in her eyes.

“How do you _think_ I feel? I've been in a coma for...I even don't know how long! They won’t tell me. But, oh no, wait, _you_ wouldn't know that, would you? Because you weren't here! You never _were_!” Her voice broke as she turned away from me, her arms flailing. I could hear the tears in her voice, and it took a moment for her words to register. I was hurting her. “Everyone else was here. People who I don't even like visited! But the _one_ person I _really_ wanted here...wasn't. And the only time you visited, you flirted with April.”

She finally turned around to face me, the tears obvious in her eyes. She didn't try to mask the look of pure _hurt_ on her face from me. I knew I needed to do something, say something. Tell her that she was wrong and that I didn't leave her bedside, but I couldn't seem to make my body cooperate. All I could do was stare blankly at her, hoping that somehow she would start to make sense.

“April! Who I know you completely _despise_. Even although you try to hide it from me...was that just a ruse, David? Did you actually like her? Or are you just that _desperate_ that you went for the first piece of _meat_ that gave you some attention? It doesn't matter that your so-called best friend is lying in a coma, that she's _maybe_ not going to wake up, that maybe she doesn't _want_ to...”

Jo trailed off, shocked at her own admission. I stepped forward and raised my arms slightly, intending to pull her into a hug. “No,” she whispered, taking a step away from me and shaking her head violently.

“Jo.” I begged, holding my hands up towards her. I took another small step towards her, hoping that she wouldn't react badly.

“No!” She shouted, suddenly reaching for the jug of water on the counter next to her. I knew what she was going to do before it happened, but it still came as a shock when the plastic and water went flying past my head, “I hate you!”


	9. Duck

The minute the water jug flew past his head I knew that it was a bad idea, but I just couldn't stop. All the pent up anger within me had to get out sometime, and what time was better than the present? The vase of flowers lying at the end of my bed was my next missile. I didn't even notice that the handwriting on the card was clearly _his_ before I threw them at his head.

This time he didn't duck. The sound of smashing glass was accompanied by a surprised, yet painful, yelp coming from the other occupant of the room. I was just about to reach for the CD player when I heard my mother’s voice coming through my anger induced haze, “Josephine what _are_ you doing? David! I thought I told you very _clearly_ to stay _away_ from my daughter!”

David deflated at my mother's words, and with a sideways glance at me, he slunk out of the room. As he left, I felt a strange stab in my stomach as I watched him walk away, but I pushed the feeling away. I didn't need to feel guilty. _He_ should be the one who felt bad. So what if I'd overreacted? He was the one who'd abandoned _me._

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Mum crooned as she made her way towards me, but I shrugged off her hand. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want to be treated like a china doll. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to fight. I needed to get this out of my system.

“Personally, I think you're better off without him.” Mum continued, ignoring my signals that I didn't want to talk about this. She moved towards the flowers, rearranging them so that the gap left by the bouquet I'd thrown wasn't obvious.

Suddenly, something she'd said clicked in my mind. “What did you mean? When you said you'd told him to stay away from me?” I asked, slowly turning around to face her.

“Well...you know I don't like him. He isn't good for you, dear.” She didn't pause in her flower arranging. She didn't even look at me. “Your father and I tried to have him thrown out of the hospital in the beginning, but the doctors wouldn't have it. They said it would be detrimental to your health. But you're awake now, so there really isn't a reason for him to be here anymore. It’s for the best. He made the room look messy, don't you think?”

* * *

After being forced out of the room, I paused and let the events of the previous few minutes sink in. I sighed heavily as I sank into the wall. She had accused me of not being there, I was there. _Every... single... day..._

I could hear Jo's mum reassuring her in the background. “Personally, I think you're better off without him...”

_What?_

I strained my ears desperately, praying to all the Gods I didn't believe in that Jo would do her usual and tell her mum to get lost. But nothing came. Not a single word of protest.

_What did you expect?_ I thought bitterly. She just threw a jug of water at your head. Not exactly jumping to your defence is it?

This wasn't one of those rom-coms that Jo had forced me to sit through. There was no moment of epiphany. No sudden realization that she was wrong. The princess didn't awaken from her sleep to discover that she couldn't live without her prince. She didn't forgive him for everything, and they didn't live happily ever after. She awoke kicking and screaming, rejecting the prince's tokens of affection. No, reject was too weak a word. This was so much more than rejection. She'd stated her intentions petty clearly when she'd thrown _his_ flowers in the general direction of his head.

And she didn't miss.

This is the real world. Nothing resembling a fairytale ever happens here. And even if it does it never lasts.

Her rejection stung more than I ever thought it would. As that thought entered my mind, I suddenly became aware of other pains in my body. There were small scratches on my hands from where I'd put my hands up to defend myself from her second attack, but the worst pain seemed to come from a large gash on the side of my head. Looking down, I saw that the blood had dripped down from my head and onto the collar of my clean white shirt.

Sighing again as I pushed myself off the wall, I decided I should go and get myself cleaned up. There was no point in walking about with blood running down my face. It would probably be a good idea to head down to A&E and get checked out. Or maybe, I thought as I caught sight of the nurses' station, I could find one of the nurses from the ward. They knew me just as well, if not better, than I knew myself. They could just clean me up and I could slip out unnoticed.


	10. Biggest Lie Ever

_"The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along."_

Maulana Jalalu'ddin Rumi

* * *

  
  


Love is friendship that caught fire. I didn’t know how true that was until it was me.

  
  


And then it was too late.

  
  


Everyone thinks that when you realise that you’re in love with someone it’ll hit you like a runaway train. Like a ton of bricks. That, suddenly, one minute, everything makes sense. That it’s some monumental, life changing moment. And everyone seems to think it happens when you meet them. That you’ll just _know_.

  
  


Trust me. It doesn’t work like that.

  
  


For me, it was a slow realisation. Like a jigsaw puzzle, my heart was slowly being pieced together until you could see the whole picture. And it wasn’t hard to figure out whose name was tattooed across my heart.

  
  


I had always felt _something_ for David. I kept telling myself it was nothing to shout about. That it was just friendly. Nothing more. He wasn’t my type, and I wasn’t his. We wouldn’t fit. We were too different. Even if I did like him, which I didn’t, there was no way it would work. We were from two different worlds.

  
  


The fact we had somehow managed to stay friends was a miracle in itself.

  
  


I started to notice something different when we were in sixth year. We’d both been in relationships before, if you could even call them that, but this was different. I was seventeen, seeing this guy on the quiet. He was six feet tall with wild blonde hair and these gorgeous green eyes. He was a swimmer, but smart with a bright future…the kind of man my mum would want me to be with. We were taking it slow, but it was pretty serious.

  
  


David hated him.

  
  


That’s when I noticed something was different between us. David would get this look in his eyes whenever I was with Adam that made me feel uncomfortable. It was as if he felt like Adam was encroaching on his territory. He said he was worried he was losing his best friend.

  
  


And I believed him.

  
  


Especially when we left school and he turned into the drug of choice for certain areas of the female population. I’ll admit it. I was jealous. _Insanely_ jealous. But it was easier to say that those feelings were those of a best friend. I was used to having his undivided attention. I didn’t like sharing him. And he felt the same way. We were just friends.

  
  


_Biggest. Lie. Ever._

  
  


Everyone else must have noticed my jealously when his latest girlfriend or ‘wannabe’ girlfriends came around. They were wannabes because they took one look at me, made their excuses and hastily left. The girlfriends would stick around a little longer and we’d be civil to each other. There were a few I would have liked if it wasn’t for the irrational hatred I felt toward them. In my head I liked to refer to all those girls as his ‘playthings’. Because no matter what happened between them, he’d always come back to me.

  
  


I was his best friend. And as far as everyone else was concerned, _I_ was the only girl in his life that was worth taking notice of. That was as far as it went, and we were happy like that.

  
  


But, as with everything in life, just being each other’s best friend wasn’t enough. Slowly, the lines started to get even more blurred.

  
  


My next step was continually trying to make him happy. Even though I was a self-confessed music-junkie, I can’t stand heavy metal. But I found myself listening to it whenever I was at his. And singing along. And learning the words. I even bought two tickets for the sold-out reunion tour of his favourite band for his birthday.

  
  


There wasn’t even a question of who was our plus-one at parties. I’d follow him anywhere, and he’d do the same for me. I’d ended up in some of the dingiest, dodgiest looking pubs because his friends thought it was a good place to go out, and I couldn’t care. Because I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. And I had put him in some pretty uncomfortable positions too – he was a biker. He did not _belong_ in a suit at a posh restaurant celebrating my Gran’s birthday. But he was there anywhere.

  
  


I tried to pretend I didn’t feel all warm inside when he would put his arm around me protectively and kiss me on the forehead. “She’s my girlfriend.” It was just our excuse. It let me get away from all the creeps, and it gave me a reason to glare at all the girls who would undoubtedly throw themselves at him. It was the easy answer to the question we were always asked.

  
  


I was already in far too deep. I just couldn’t admit it.

  
  


Looking back, I can see that the punch line had been coming for a while. I was just too stubborn to accept it. I ignored it.

  
  


Things were too complicated. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. Limbo might not be perfect, but I could live with it. If we were going to move forward into any kind of relationship, he was going to have to make the first move.

  
  


I think Amy phrased it best. _You’re not in a relationship, but you’re not exactly single are you? Admit it. You wouldn’t say no if he asked._

  
  


I’d rolled my eyes and changed the subject. If I couldn’t see the problem, it couldn’t see me.

  
  


And now…now I was a wreck. This was the third night in a row I’d woken up screaming. And considering I had only been out of the coma four days and still attached to a heart monitor, this wasn’t exactly the best time for me to have a meltdown. As I pressed my head into my knees, I could hear the machines frantically beeping around me, and I just wanted them to _shut up so I could think_.

  
  


The nurses would be here fussing over me in a matter of seconds. They’d try to calm me down. Try to understand what was causing sobs to wrack my body. Try to figure out if it was a flashback or a panic attack or something related to the coma. Then they’d sedate me. Again.

  
  


Couldn’t they see I just wanted to be _left alone?_

  
  


They all knew about the fight. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here. They’d asked what had happened with my boyfriend. So he’d used the excuse, and no one had corrected him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Hell, right now I wasn’t sure how I felt about anything. Everyone wanted to know why I’d come out of a coma and flew into a rage at my apparently devoted boyfriend.

  
  


Well, they could keep wondering. No one was getting anything out of me.

  
  


He’d broken my heart. He’d broken it and probably didn’t even realize he’d had it in the first place.

  
  


I was supposed to be his best friend. I was in a coma. He didn’t visit. He didn’t care. And he hooked up with some random _slut_ in my hospital room. I don’t think I overreacted in any way.

  
  


When my Granda died, my world fell apart. And the only thing I could cling to was David. And now he’d been ripped away too. Except he wasn’t ripped away. I’d sent him away.

  
  


_And I don’t think he’s coming back…_ Another sob ripped from my chest.

  
  


After I ended up in hospital the last time, Mum and Dad have been a bit wary of David. Mainly mum. Dad…Dad just wants me to be happy. He’d just rather I was happy with someone safer. But if I decided David was what I wanted I knew he’d never say a word against him. Mum almost has a coronary every time I say I’m going out with him. I don’t know what she’d be like if we were serious.

  
  


_Not that I’ll ever know…_

  
  


I think Becky thinks we’re more...but we’re not. Never were.

  
  


But then again Becky thinks that the dog across the road should marry our cat Snowy. Crazy girl.

  
  


If it wasn’t for the fact I know it was me making all the noise, I’d swear someone was in the room with me ripping up the curtains. But it was just me. Sobbing to the point of hyperventilation. It was pathetic.

  
  


I was barely aware of the nurses surrounding me. They were just blurs on the fringes of my consciousness. They weren’t important. They were mere nuisances. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be the girl who’d missed three months. I didn’t want more drugs.

  
  


I wanted to go home. I wanted to curl up in my bed with Snowy and Becky and have a good cry over the Titanic.

  
  


_I wanted David._

  
  


I whimpered in between sobs, burrowing my head further into my knees. One nurse asked another if they thought they should contact the psychologist. My answer was unrepeatable. She gasped softly in shock, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was hurting, and I didn’t care who I inflicted my pain onto.

  
  


I’d already proved that hadn’t I?

  
  


I was in love with David. But it took me far too long to realize it. If I was honest, I was only just admitting it to myself now. I’d missed my chance.

  
  


He had April now.

  
  


And even if I’d somehow misunderstood, he’d never take me back. I’d proved I was certifiable nutcase. I could go from being completely fine with him – flirting and promising to make-up my absence up to him – to a raging harpy who threw whatever object was closest to hand. No man would want that. I’d lost him, it was my fault, and I’d have to deal with it.

  
  


I gasped as I felt the sedative take hold. I couldn’t fight when they pushed me back onto the pillows. There was only one way I could think of to cope with this.

  
  


_If I can’t see the problem, it can’t see me…_

  
  


"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."

James A. Baldwin


	11. True Hurts

I tried blocking all thoughts of him from my head, I really did, but somehow he kept sneaking back in. Blindsiding me when I least expected it. I'm still not entirely sure if it either doesn't work or if I don't want it to work.

Trying to distract myself from the near-constant thoughts - and resulting guilt - surrounding my almost-ex, I concentrated on throwing myself headfirst back into life. My life. After three months in a coma, that seemed like an abstract concept.

There were things I remembered, things I didn't, but on the whole it just felt like waking up after a particularly wild weekend. The difference was, this time the blanks spanned three months, not three days. Everyone's life had kept moving while I'd been in limbo, and nobody seemed to be the same as I remembered.

They all seemed scared of me, as if they couldn't get rid of the image of me lying almost lifeless in that hospital room. This didn't help my idea to give one hundred and ten percent to recovering and getting back to where I was. Not when I always felt like I was being handled with kid gloves.

_Cause it’s too late, there's no escape, might as well face it_

_Baby, we're stuck with each other, stuck with each other_

_ain't nothing you can do about it_

_It’s been too long, coz it’s too strong, yes we belong here_

_Baby we're stuck with each other, stuck with each other_

_Stuck in love with each other_

_(stuck in love with each other)_

* * *

There was one thing about the whole situation that had that had bugged me from the moment I woke up. Out of everything that felt wrong, this one irritated me the most.

  
  


Becky had been acting strangely. She kept receiving these mysterious phone calls. Her phone would go off and she’d run off to take the call in private. Her bedroom, out in the hall…anywhere I wasn’t.

  
  


Eventually, I decided to confront her. Which was why I was leaning against the doorway into our kitchen. Right now she was hiding in the cupboard under the stairs. After a few minutes she emerged, jumping about six feet when she came face to face with me.

  
  


“Secret boyfriend?” I asked lightly, trying to read her expression. She just gazed back at me evenly for a few seconds as if she was trying to gauge how I would react. Seeing that calculating look in her eyes, I feared the worst. I didn’t know what she was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

  
  


"It was David.” she stated eventually. My jaw dropped at her admission. Before I could begin to process her words, she quickly carried on. “He phones me practically every day to ask about you.”

  
  


For a few moments I was staggered, unable to form any kind of response. I wasn’t really sure how I felt about his actions. I repeated Becky’s words to myself just to make sure I had heard her right.

“ _Why_?” I blurted out.

  
  


Her reply was instant. “Why do you think?”

  
  


“I...” I honestly didn’t know why he would be calling about me every day. Even ignoring everything that had happened between us after I had woken up, it was pretty obvious that he didn’t care about me as much as I thought he had. Becky fixed me with a look that caused me to suddenly change my answer. She looked almost _angry_ at me. Instead, I countered with a question. Folding my arms, I snapped, “Well, you seem to know the answer! So why don’t you tell me?”

  
  


“I’m not going to tell you the answer. Because I don’t know the answer.” Becky rolled her eyes and gave me one of her scathing looks that I tended only to see aimed at Mum. “I _can_ , however, tell you what I think.” Her voice rose a few octaves, grabbing my attention. Whatever was going on, she was really worked up about it. Suddenly, I was terrified. For some reason, I felt that if I said the wrong thing then I would lose yet another person in my life. Or at least damage our relationship beyond repair. With my current track record anything was possible.

  
  


Becky continued on her rant, now using her hands to illustrate her point. Pointing an accusing finger at me she seethed, “I think you should give him more credit than you do. He _deserves_ a little bit of respect instead of you putting him down. What happened Jo? You used to stick up for him like nothing on Earth. I don’t care if you suddenly think you’re too good for him or whatever. I’m telling you this – and I want you to listen to it – because I think that somehow you’ve missed the point. He _never_ left you. He was in your room as much as physically possible. And I don’t care what you do with what I just said, but I wish you’d do _something_.”

  
  


She ran out of steam, just looking at me in complete disbelief one last time before she turned around and ran up the stairs. Speechless, all I could do was look after her retreating form. Slowly, her words began to sink in, but just as before I pushed them to the back of my mind before they could make any concrete impression.


	12. Night Out

At first, I tried ignoring the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it didn't work. If I wasn't so numb, I would have said I wasn't surprised that my half-hearted attempt at moving on was a failure. Jo had too much of hold on me for me to just...move on. It wasn't possible. So I resorted to my old friend, my favourite coping method.

_Drink._

But to be honest, that didn't really help either. It never had. But it felt good to go out and get absolutely wasted every night. To forget everything, and know that _she_ wouldn't like it. But there was nothing _she_ could do about it. Sometimes, in my more vindictive moments, I wished I would bump into her on one of my drunken nights. Other times, especially when I sober up, I hope I don't. Because I _know_ she still has that look of hers. That deadly look that I can't help but find oh so sexy. The look of complete disapproval that promises me that I will regret whatever I've done. Drunk or not, being on the other end of that look in public would cause me to die of embarrassment. And right now, seeing that look of complete scorn on her face would finish me.

* * *

I don't think I'll ever know what possessed me to agree to go out that night. It seemed a good idea at the time. I was desperate. I was on the verge wallowing, and my conversation with Becky before I left had made things worse. I was ready to do anything to get my mind off of _him_. Not that going out and getting wasted was getting me away from reminders of him. If anything, by going out I was more likely to run into him. I had already warned Amy that I didn't want to go anywhere _near_ David's regular haunts. I tried not to feel offended when she pulled a face and told me that she'd never go anywhere near his 'regular haunts'. That was what I wanted. No reminders. That's why I was out with people who hated him.

That's what tonight was about. It was a great big _**screw you**_ in his direction. I didn't like him drinking because he didn't know where to draw the line. He didn't know when to stop. If we were out together it wasn't too bad. He didn't want to put me in danger because of something stupid he'd done. But there were always times when that mentality failed him and I'd have to physically stop him. Take the drink off him, throw him in a taxi and pray his gran didn't murder him when he stumbled in. I hated it when he went out drinking with the guys. I was always distracted, waiting for the phone call that rarely came. I knew it was just a typical guys reaction. Most of his friends were like that. But I wasn't in- I didn't c- They weren't him. They weren't my problem.

So, as a result, I rarely got drunk. Someone had to keep a straight head. It didn't matter if I was with him or with my friends, someone had to be sober-ish. And I didn't care that that someone was me.

But tonight...tonight I was going to get completely _smashed_. And he couldn't stop me. I was going to get drunk. I was going to have fun. I was going to flirt with random guys. I was going to forget _he_ even existed.

And he can't stop me.

“C'mon Jo, there’s a massive queue already!”

Clubbing was never really my thing, I preferred a night in the pub, but I didn't think that a night of clubs would do me any harm. Not when my only plan was to get as wasted as humanly possible. My liver would hate me in the morning, but it was worth the few hours of oblivion. Banishing all thoughts of him from my head, I hurried after my friends.

There were five of us; me, Amy, Mel, Helen and one of her friends from university whose name I didn't plan on remembering. From the looks I was getting from her, someone had filled her in on the situation. I wasn't just another girl, a friend of a friend, I was the girl who'd been in a coma a month before.

Definitely not remembering her name.

* * *

A few hours later, we found ourselves in one of the pubs near the last club. Helen and her friend were starting to lose steam – amateurs – and Mel needed to sit down. Instead of calling it a night like I normally would have, I'd suggested we start on the pubs. Amy was all for it. She'd giggled to me in the toilets of the second - or was it fourth - club that she'd missed this side of me. We'd pulled the other girls into a pub that I vaguely recognised, but I was too far gone to think about where I knew it from. Even when the barman openly gaped at me when I ordered my third Harlem Mugger. Even when I was sure I knew two of the men on the other side of the bar were trying not to stare at me. I didn't want to think about why they were shocked. I didn't want to know why I knew this place.

I didn't want to know.

The fact I couldn't remember how much I'd had or where I'd been before this pub said it all. My plan was working.

Eventually the inevitable couldn't be avoided, and I announced I was going to the ladies. Shuffling out of the booth, I unsteadily got to my feet. I was drunk. And walking in heels suddenly became an Olympic sport. I had hardly made it two steps before I fell to the floor, much to the amusement of my friends. As I went rushing towards the floor, the image in front of my eyes shifted for a moment. Instead of the wooden floor of the pub, I was hurtling towards a blue carpet. As my hands made contact with the cool surface, the blue was gone, but it left a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I could hear laughter coming from our table, but the rest of the bar had suddenly gone very quiet.

_Don't think about it._

Ignoring the feeling, I pushed myself up from the floor into a sitting position, unable to control my giggles. I must look hilarious. I kicked my silver heels off - why was I wearing silver? I was sure I'd been looking for Becky's red ones before I fell - and threw them in the general direction of Amy.

"Maybe it's safer if I take these off," I laughed as I slowly got to my feet. I tried not to look at the bartender, who was looking at me with something more than concern for a drunk patron. There was a familiarity behind that look that I didn't want to deal with. Deciding to let go of whatever dignity I had left after that fall, I grinned and turned to bow to my 'adoring fans'. If I was going to make a fool of myself, I was going to do it right.

Spinning around, still giggling to myself, I walked straight into what seemed to be a very tall, solid wall. The force of the collision almost sent me flying to the floor again but before I could go anywhere a strong arm wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to him. At that point part of my brain reawakened, screaming at me to get the hell away from the drunk guy who obviously had no plans of letting me go. However, the rest of my brain was still thoroughly intoxicated and could only think about the way the arms around her felt familiar, like they should be there. A small smile on my face, I looked up to thank my knight in shining armour as the stench of beer suddenly filtered through my brain.

_Crap_.

As I looked up, I came face to face with the man I was avoiding. As I looked into his bloodshot eyes, the drunken haze lifted from my head. I knew where I was. It was a pub called The Last Drop. David was a regular here, and by association so was I. I could tell you exactly how much I'd drunk. Where'd I'd been. What I'd done.

Stone. Cold. _Sober_.

My eyes went wide, and there was more than a little horror present as I whispered, "David?”

"Jo. What a wonderful surprise...” He grinned, his speech slightly slurred. He was tipsy, verging on drunk. I wouldn't have intervened, not yet. Being honest, he was probably more sober than I had been mere minutes before. Because of the drink, he found this whole thing funny. As I looked at him, I noticed there was something behind the façade, something wild in his eyes that he was trying to cover up with humour. “I was just telling the guys,” He unsteadily turned and pointed towards the bar where a crowd of grinning men waved at me. My eyes went impossibly wider as I recognised a few faces. “That if you were here you would split me in two. But I guess that won't be necessary seeing as you're in no shape to be doing any splitting.” He flashed me a goofy grin, leaning forward to whisper, "You're _wasted_ , Jo."

Even through my semi-intoxicated haze, I knew I should be mad at him. Maybe it was the drink talking, but this new drunken David was kinda intriguing. Biting my lip and looking up at him through my lashes, I whispered back, "And you aren't?"

_Isn't that just your luck though - you want to avoid someone and end up running into everyone. Moral of the story - if you weren't so drunk you'd notice the name of the bar!_


	13. FIGHT

I had been watching her from my spot beside the bar since the moment she stumbled in the door. They were sitting in one of the booths on the opposite side of the room. I was drinking as much liquor as I could, weighing up the pros and cons of going over and saying hi. While I was weighing up the probability of getting a beer bottle thrown at my head compared to being embarrassed in the middle of the pub, she decided to dance with some tall guy with Johnny Depp looks.

The barman caught my eye, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Again. The regulars had been trying to catch my attention all night, wanting to know what the hell had gotten into her. I just wished I had the answers.

Watching her dance I realised that although she looked like hell, she was looking exceptionally hot. And she'd probably looked even hotter when they'd started out their night. But maybe I was a little biased. After finally reaching the point of intoxication where I was confident enough to go over, I spun my stool around to face her, picking my moment. Seeing the perfect opportunity arising, I watched with amusement as she stumbled getting up from the table. However, my amusement was replaced by sheer terror when she failed to make it two steps before falling to the floor.

I was out of my seat before she'd hit the floor, rooted to the spot with my arm extended out towards her. With the exception of her table, who burst into loud peals of laughter, most of the pub went silent. They all knew what had happened to her - it had filtered down the grapevine from our friends to the barstaff and the regulars. My three month absence told them just how serious it was. I felt almost every eye dart between the two of us, waiting for someone to make a move.

Jo was the first one to move, rolling over and bursting into a fit of giggles. With that as proof that she hadn't knocked herself into another coma, I decided it was now or never. Rushing over to where she was picking herself up off the floor, I had to hold back a laugh as she bowed to the group. She had her back to me but when she turned around she walked straight into my chest, and fell straight back down like a domino.

Instinctively, I reached out to grab her, locking my arms around her waist so that she wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to hurt herself again, not if I could help it.

* * *

The fight had started over in the far corner. Two guys we had been talking to earlier, who were far more intoxicated than we were, had started arguing over whose bottle of beer it was. Or something like that. I didn't pay attention until other people began to get involved - drunks just angling for a fight - and it quickly began to escalate. In one ear I was getting constant updates from Helen and her friend.

"Oh the Johnny Depp guy just hit the guy with the blue t-shirt."

"Oh no poor James!"

A wince.

"That's going to hurt."

I didn't really care about them to be honest. I zoned the two girls out, instead focusing on the enthralling scene a few feet away.

If somebody had told me that at the end of the night we would be in _this_ pub. This shady pub with a reputation for trouble, I would have laughed. I wouldn't set foot in a place like this. And neither would Jo now that she was through with David. Too many memories.

But if you'd told me _he_ would be here, and Jo hadn't cracked a bottle over his head within seconds of laying eyes on him? I wouldn't have believed you. She wasn't a violent person, but he'd hurt her too much. She wouldn't say what exactly had happened between them, but I knew it was big. Big enough that she wouldn't forgive him...

But yet here we were. I had no idea whose idea it was to come in here, I'd been far too intoxicated - still was actually - to care. The more pressing issue was the fact that Jo hadn't killed David yet. In fact, she looked like she was about to jump him. She must've been more drunk than I thought. He was standing with his arms around her, grinning like an idiot, and she was looking up at him through her eyelashes, almost begging him to make the first move. This was the first time I'd seen her smile, really smile, since she came out the coma.

I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts by Helen shouting my name and pushing me down onto the booth. I turned my head to look towards the fight, catching a fleeting glimpse of a glass flying towards us before I landed on the cracked brown leather of the chair. I suppressed a scream as the glass exploded above our heads moments later.

I ducked under the table as a bottle smashed to the ground in front of me. This was why I didn't frequent this kind of pub. Being careful not to put my bare skin to the ground, I awkwardly shuffled forward to peer between the legs of the chair in front of me.

I searched frantically for the right pair of legs, hoping that Jo and David had noticed and moved behind the bar or something. I didn't hold out much hope though, while it had seemed longer for me, in reality it had only been a few seconds since the fight had begun to get serious.

As I locked eyes on the loved-up pair, I knew exactly what was going to happen before it did. Time suddenly seemed to slow down again. David, in spite of his semi-drunk state, was still able to sense the danger surrounding him. He tore his gaze from Jo, looking towards the commotion with guarded eyes. Then he saw what I saw. A wayward bottle, missing its intended target by miles, was flying through the air towards David's head. He had no time to react, to step out of its path. Before it impacted, all he could to was gaze at the missile and instinctively tighten his hold on Jo, as it by sheer will he could keep her safe. From my position under the table, I _heard_ the crunch of the glass as it smashed into the side of David's head.

Jo screamed and hid her face in his shoulder from the flying glass. He stumbled a bit, before he fell over and took Jo with him. They ended up in a crumpled heap in the floor, but not before I heard the sickening crunch that told me he'd hit his head off a bar stool on the way down. That would be some headache in the morning.

* * *

The moment was broken by a bottle smashing against the side of David's head, causing him to fall to the floor pulling me down with him. This time instead of having visions of blue carpets all I could see was him. I landed on top of him with a thump. His chest was warm and comfy, I reluctantly propped myself up off his chest.

“David?” No reply, starting to panic slightly I looked around me at the mayhem, rapidly scanning the room to try and find Amy. Finally I found her, cowering under our table. A bottle smashed off the wall behind her and showered her in glass. I knew that there was nothing she could do to help me, so I looked back at David lying on the floor beneath me. I checked that he was still breathing, and then tried desperately to stop the flow of blood from his head.

Looking at the unfamiliar scars on his forehead, I traced my finger lightly over them. Then it sunk in. I had put them there. The jagged edges and cruel white lines. There was an ugly, painful looking red one that obviously hadn't quite healed yet. That was me.

The sounds of the pub fight around me were ignored as I concentrated on the still face in front of me. Suddenly there was a reassuring had on my shoulder, “Hey hunnie, how are you doing? An ambulance is on its way.”

Amy was here, everything was going to be okay. I moved aside slightly as the medical practitioner in her took over, but never took my eyes off his pale face, or that scar on his forehead. Soon the ambulance arrived and we were being bundled into the back, Amy insisting that I should go with him while simultaneously giving the paramedics a run-down of his condition. Before I knew it, the doors were being closed behind me and I was left with nothing else to do but watch the already pale face become paler.


	14. Wait till I tell the wife

The antiseptic was stinging my face, but I ignored it. I had more important things to worry about. Like trying to figure out where we stood after tonight. However, as my chaotic thoughts began to align, then the doctor announced he was finished, subsequently meaning all inner conflicts must cease.

“There you go.” He made sure I was paying attention before continuing “If you just keep that clean you should be fine in a few days” He paused before adding with a grin, “And no more bar fights.”

The matching grin that spread across my face was painful but strangely satisfying after a night of drama and tenseness. 

“Yeah, I can think of better ways for a night to end than casualty.” My thoughts were once again filled with the pale panicking face of a certain brunette.

“Definitely.” I could see that the doctor was trying to gauge how to play this; he obviously made up his mind as he replied, “Between you and me, I think your girlfriend might be extra attentive tonight... She's having kittens out there.”

My grin face faltered as I stumbled over the words, “She's not my girlfriend, doc...until tonight I wasn't even sure she was still my friend.”

Laughing at my obvious disappointment, the Doctor continued seemingly un-phased. “Bad break-up? Take my advice kid, you get a girl like that? You do anything to make sure she doesn't get away.”

“If you'd told me before I left tonight that I'd end up here cos I got hit by a bottle flying through the air, I would've said she was the one aiming for my head. It was a vase last time.” My statement seemed to bring the Doctor back to reality.

“A vase? What'd you do? Forget your anniversary?”

“She was in a coma for three months. We were supposed to be going out for dinner and she fell down a flight of stairs. Woke up and hated me.” I stopped suddenly, halfway through my flow, surprised by my own willingness to talk about everything. But then again it might not be a bad idea to get all this out of my system before I walk out the door and faced her.

The Doctor seemed to hold the same opinion as with interest he asked, “She say why? You know, in between getting surrounded by medical staff and throwing a vase at you?

“She said I wasn't there.” Jumping up off the bed to begin pacing, my voice rose as I continued, “But I don't get it. I was there! I never left! My life completely stopped when she was in hospital. I was actually probably the best behaved I've ever been and she missed it -”

“Whoa, calm down.” He waited until I had sat back down again before getting straight to his point “Did you tell her any of this?”

“She won't talk to me.” I shook my head and looked at my lap before muttering, “And her parents hate me so they're not exactly going to tell her to answer my calls are they?” A moment of silence passed before I continued, “I just wish I knew what I'm supposed to have done. I could deal with it then. Beg, grovel, whatever she needs, I'd do it.” I shrugged. “But at the end of the day...tonight is the first time I've seen her in weeks.”

“Look,” he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “As much as we try to tell the families that we know what to do, in reality we know more about the moon than we do comas. And it’s because every case is different, especially with head trauma. The truth is we don't know what's going on in their heads, we just know the biology. Some patients remember the whole thing, some remember nothing, some remember snippets, hell some can even tell you what was happening outside the hospital! Don't ask me how, because we don't have a clue. Maybe all she remembers is darkness. Or it might be that her only memory of the whole ordeal is one where you weren't in the room. It’s easy to lash out at the ones closest to you. My advice, talk to her. Not that I think you'll need to do much convincing.”

“There's every chance she just wants me alive so she can throttle me for getting into a bar fight.” I laughed at the memory, before looking up at the doctor’s confused face and explained “A few months ago I got into a fight and the police got involved. I was still drunk, it was 2am...most people would've put down the phone and left me to sober up in the cells...she came and picked me up for the sole reason that she wanted to kill me.”

The grin plastered across his face gradually widened as I recounted the night. For some reason, he didn’t lecture me about the dangers of what I was doing – he just dished out relationship advice, “And that, kid, is how you keep a relationship fresh. One partner should be compulsively flippant; the other should be dangerously volatile. Great fun. Now get out of here and go get the girl.”

He laughed before muttering, “Wait till I tell the wife about this...”

* * *

According to the big clock on the wall, he had been behind that closed door for nearly half an hour now. But I was convinced it was longer than that. Every tick of the minute hand seemed to take an eternity, taunting me about my powerlessness. I was beginning to fear the worst. My hope that this would all turn out okay was diminishing the longer the minutes ticked on. I wasn’t hoping for a miracle recovery – I just wanted to know he was awake and coherent. He’d woken up in the ambulance, but the mumbled rambles did nothing to help my worry.

  
  


The blood that was still on my hands wasn't helping the situation at all. I must look like a victim in a horror movie, covered in her boyfriend’s blood. There was so much blood. Dried blood coating my hands for where I’d touched his face in awestruck horror. Blood from when I had desperately tried to stem the flow of blood coming from a rather large gash in his cheek. I knew there was blood on my dress from where I’d leaned over him, and it was just as likely that there was blood on my face and in my hair – if the sticky streaks I could feel on cheeks and matted in my hair were anything to go by. It looked like I was the one who’d been attacked. I vaguely realized that I should probably clean up before I was dragged into an examination room, but I didn’t want to leave the waiting room in case he came out. But did I want him to see me caked in his blood. That was just a little morbid. The dress would wash, as would my hair. There wasn’t much I could do about them. But I could wash my hands and my face. Make myself a little more presentable and a little less bride of Dracula. Just as I was getting up to go clean it off, the door opened. My head snapped up at the sound and I was suddenly rooted to the spot. I had a newfound empathy for David right after I had woken up. No wonder he had stared at me, gaping like a fish, for so long. I didn’t have a clue what to say to him.

  
  


There he stood, now barely two feet away from me with that stupid, cocky grin on his face. As if there’s nothing wrong with a bar fight ending in a late night trip to A&E. Typical David. But it wouldn’t be him if he changed.

  
  


I took a quick inventory of his health. There were a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing that would suggest that all the blood I was wearing was his. Other than the slightly unfocused look in his eyes, he looked okay. But that didn’t account for internal issues or a concussion…

  
  


_Shut up, Jo. Positive thoughts._

  
  


In the weeks since our fight, I had gone over our first moments after the coma a million times trying to figure out where we’d went wrong. Trying to figure out why he’d reacted that way. Now it was my turn to say something stupid. “Hey.”

  
  


“Hey,” he replied with a soft smile. He took another step forward and pulled me into a hug. I wanted to pull away, tell him I didn’t want to get anymore blood on him, but I was selfish and needed the comfort. However, when he nuzzled the top of my head I had to bite my lip to stop the laughter. There was something endearing about the way he seemed like a six week old puppy instead of a grown man.

  
  


_Looks like someone’s still high on the morphine._

  
  


Turning my head so that my cheek rested against his chest, I tightened my grip on him and tentatively asked, “You ok?”

  
  


“Yeah, it just opened up some old wounds. Nothing serious. Mild concussion from hitting my head, but whatcha gonna do about that?” He answered with a grin. Well, I _felt_ him grin into my hair. My eyes went wide as I felt his hands move from my waist to spread out possessively against my lower back. _Definitely the morphine_. This was nearly as bad as Drunken David.

  
  


Well, depending on how you looked at it.

  
  


“Are you sure?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as his hands began to wander. “I can go double check with the doctor before we leave. There was all that blood and...” I trailed off at that, slowly stepping out of his grip – I tried not to think about what his noise of displeasure meant – and looked down at my hands. They were still covered in his blood. I didn’t get a chance to go to the toilets to clean up. Seeing that my attention was somewhere else, David looked down too.

  
  


_So much blood…_

  
  


“I'm fine. Promise.” he said taking hold of my small hands in his bigger ones. I flinched at the sudden contact, suddenly jolted from my kind-of-flashback to the bar. I didn’t get full ones, even though the consultant had told me to expect them. All I had were mini ones. I still knew where I was, but the almost-flashback took over. But David wouldn’t know that. The sight of his hands around mine, despite the fact that there was more red there than there should be, pulled at my heartstrings. I’d missed this.

  
  


I’d missed _him_.

  
  


I twisted my hands around so that my fingers were intertwined with his before I looked up, searching his blue eyes for some sign that this wasn’t what he wanted.

  
  


I didn’t find anything.

  
  


A few seconds passed before either of us spoke again, content to just stare into the other’s eyes. “Jo…” He softly whispered my name. His voice was almost pleading. It was something that I couldn't ignore, no matter how much the thought of the coming conversation scared me. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he added, “We need to talk.”

  
  


I nodded mutely, my eyes never leaving his. He gently placed a hand on my back, steering me towards the exit. His hand sat at the small of my back, but there was none of the possession or gentleness from before. This was stiff, as if he was holding back. I let him guide me out the doors without question. I was still in too much in shock to register anything but the basics, far less think coherently.

  
  


And I was still ever so slightly intoxicated. Just a little bit. It wasn’t helping.

  
  


He navigated the halls with relative ease, pulling me down corridors I didn’t even know existed. Even to my shocked, alcohol muddled brain, this didn’t quite make sense. Somehow, we ended up in a secluded garden. If this had been any other time, I would have asked him how he knew about this place. Three stories up, fourth window to the right…that was my room. Well, the room Becky said I'd been in when I was in the coma. She'd told me about how she could look out the window and see a garden, but that she didn’t know how to get to it. How could David know about this place?

  
  


Silently, he moved his hand from my back and grabbed my had. He pulled me towards the bench then with a gentle tug on my hand he coaxed me to sit down. Not quite knowing what to say, I looked down at my hands, still stained with his blood. He had said he was fine, but I still didn't quite believe him.

  
  


“I'm not going anywhere.” His words broke me out of my trance-like state. Unless I had started speaking out loud – which was entirely possible – or I had zoned out of the conversation, his comment didn’t make sense. I looked up at him in obvious confusion and waited for him to continue.

  
  


He wasn’t looking at me, he was staring up at the hospital. I followed his gaze, trying to figure out where his mind was going, and realized with a jolt that he was staring at one of the windows. Third floor, fourth window to the right. My old room.

  
  


_How could he know that?_

  
  


“Thinking out loud, Jo.” He laughed humourlessly. I bit my lip and looked away, trying to stifle a giggle of embarrassment. There was nothing funny about this situation. Nothing funny about the way he looked like his world was about to fall apart, the way he looked so _hurt_. And I had no idea why. All I knew was that laughing was not appropriate right now.

  
  


“I don't know if this is a good time to tell you or not,” he continued, and I risked looking back at him. “but it’s been eating me alive for weeks. And I don’t care what happens. I need to say something, and now’s as good as ever. Right?”

  
  


I nodded dumbly, waiting for him to go on. I really should have said something at that. Made some sort of indication that I was sorry for everything I’d done after I’d woken up. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t there. There had to be a reason. He always had a reason. Yes, there were a lot of trust issues that I was going to have now, and we’d need to work on that. Together. I’d never felt more _worthless_ in my life than when I’d heard him flirting with April the one time he did visit me, but that was _nothing_ compared to how empty I’d felt in the last few weeks.

  
  


“I care about you, ok? Actually, it’s probably a lot more than care. And I know I should have told you that before now, but I was scared. Terrified. But seeing you in that coma...” he stopped there, trying desperately to get his emotions under control. Now that I looked, there were tears in his eyes, threatening to overflow. I placed my hand on top of his, willing him to go on. At least now I knew why he wasn’t there. My big bad boyfr- my big bad biker couldn’t handle seeing me like that.

  
  


Taking a deep breath he continued, “That was the worst time of my life, Jo. I thought I was gonna lose you. And not to some stupid faceless stranger either. This was real, it was permanent, and it made me realise that life isn't so fun without you. Because, somehow, you ended up becoming my whole life. Everything came back to you, and I couldn’t see a way to keep going if you weren’t in it. But then you woke up and, for some reason, you hated me. And yeah, okay, the vase hurt. But the fact that you were back, and breathing, and fighting with me like you normally do…that made it okay.”

  
  


“But it wasn’t okay!” I suddenly burst out. This whole thing was so out of character. David didn’t do feelings. He showed it through actions, not words. And for him to say he more-than-cared about me…it was too much. My brain latched onto the one aspect it could make sense of. “I threw a vase and a jug at you. You said the bottle opened up some old wounds, that wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me!”

  
  


He ignored my outburst, as if he was afraid his openness wouldn’t last if he went off track. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since you woke up…and if you never want anything to do with me after this, that’s fine. I’ll deal with it. Because just knowing that you’re okay will be enough.”

  
  


I just stared at him dumbly, waiting for the punch line. The punch line that didn’t come.

  
  


“But Jo, whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it.” It didn’t look like he was finished. I didn’t think I could take much more of this new, open David. “You wondered how I knew what room you were in. It’s because I spent more time than I care to think about sitting down here staring up at your window. And if I wasn’t down here? I was up there next to you. The only time I left was for work. Sometimes for sleep when the nurses threatened me, but most nights I just slept in the chair next to your bed. I didn’t leave you.” He was looking at me as if he wanted me to say something. Anything.

  
  


I just blinked owlishly at him.

  
  


“I'm going to go now,” he said hurriedly when I didn’t respond. He quickly stood up and started to walk away. He threw over his shoulder, “Let me know what you decide, yeah? But I suppose if I don’t hear anything I’ll know anyway.”

  
  


_I hate you! You weren’t there!_

  
  


_Most nights I just slept in the chair next to your bed…_

  
  


_He abandoned me, Becks, he just left me…_

  
  


_Please, like I’d actually go somewhere_ _**David** _ _frequents…_

  
  


_I care about you Jo, actually it’s probably a lot more than that…_

  
  


_You don’t need a guy like him babe…_

  
  


_I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts…_

  
  


_Typical David. Can't even go to a hospital without finding someone to flirt with!_

  
  


_*beep* *beep* Jo…please. *beep* C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta wake up. *beep* You can’t leave me… *beep* Jo…_

  
  


The last memory completely blindsided me. My head snapped in the other direction, away from David. I knew he wasn’t looking at me, but I didn’t want him to see the look of complete shock on my face. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. My eyes went wide and I mouthed the words _what the_ _ **hell**_ into the darkness. This could be- He couldn’t have-

  
  


I was a terrible person.

  
  


“No! Wait...” I jumped up from my perch and spun around trying to find him. He was back in the corridors now, and I knew I’d never find him if he got more than a few corridors away. Running after him, I tried to think about what I would say when I caught up with him. Because right now my mind was blank.

  
  


I caught up with him at the end of the second corridor. He stopped when he heard my heels on the linoleum, but he didn’t turn around. I guess I deserved that. I stopped a few feet behind him, still unsure of what to say to him. There was a moment of silence as neither of us moved, waiting to see what the other was going to do.

  
  


Tears pricked at my eyes as I realized this was all my doing. I’d never seen us in this situation. I’d hoped were just falling into a relationship. Slowly but surely. One day it would just happen. Naturally. Definitely not in the middle of a hospital corridor when we weren’t talking. Blinking and looking to the ceiling, I threw my hands in the air and admitted, “I don’t want you to leave.”

  
  


Suddenly feeling empowered, I stormed forward and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. Before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned up and crashed my lips to his. His response was instantaneous. His hands went straight to my waist, pulling me closer, and the next thing I knew he had me pushed up against the wall. I grinned into the kiss, letting my arms trail up his arms and wind around his neck.

  
  


Eventually, we had to break apart out of sheer lack of oxygen. Panting softly, he rested his forehead against mine, a soft smile on his face. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”


	15. Sharing a Taxi

The aftermath of the coma was horrible. No one knew how to act around Jo, what to say to her...what can you say after three months? Especially when she'd had no real concept of time passing. It was excruciating watching my big sister try to move on. Fight to get back to her old life. Her old self.

Too bad that Jo was enamoured with David. She was so caught up in him, I didn't think she knew how to function properly without him in her life. But that doesn't mean she didn't try.

I watched her struggle to get rid of all the reminders of _him_ , no matter how impossible a feat it proved to be. No one knew what had happened between them to make their almost-relationship fall apart. Neither one was telling, and by now people had stopped asking. After everything she'd been through, no one wanted to see that empty look in her eyes when his name was mentioned.

He was dead to her.

She was trying to get rid of him. Ignore him. Kill his memory. _As if that was possible._

I realised, long before she did, that it wasn't going to happen any time soon. No matter how much she denied it, that boy had somehow managed to break her heart. Even when she had eventually come to that conclusion by herself, I don't think she fully accepted it. It was like her heart was already dead set on the idea of loving him and it _couldn't_ change its mind. Even through all the hurt, it would still cling to the hope that they'd fix things and there would finally be a 'them'. And as long as her heart was set on the idea, so was she.

I wanted to be angry at him. I wanted to glare whenever I saw him in the streets. I wanted to hate him for what he was putting her through. But I couldn't. One look at his dejected expression and I was fighting the urge to hug him. We'd become closer during the ordeal. I'd honestly thought he could make her happy.

I didn't know what had transpired between them, but whatever it was, it was hurting him just as much as it was hurting her. The only difference was, she was making an attempt to hide it.

Which is why I wasn't surprised when she decided to finally take Amy up on the offer of a girls’ night out. Ever since Jo had woke up, Amy was adamant that she needed to get out. _You aren't fully recovered until you can drink me under the table, babe._ Being honest, I was glad Amy was so stubborn about taking Jo out. Someone needed to forget the kid gloves, and that someone was always going to be Amy. And she was training to be a doctor. It couldn't hurt to have someone trained there as well.

Jo wanted a sense of normality. She wanted to forget everything from the past four months. Getting absolutely wasted seemed like the perfect idea. Until I saw her eyes rest on my red heels - which were still in her wardrobe - on more than one occasion while she was getting ready. She didn't know I noticed the way she'd gaze almost longingly at the heels, then realise what she was doing and snap out of it. Her actions only reaffirmed my belief that she needed the night out.

I knew she was going to get so wasted that she wouldn't remember her own name. Maybe a night of anonymity was exactly what the doctor ordered. No one knows who you are when you're dancing in the dark.

When Jo _finally_ came home - I wasn't waiting up for her, I was just awake. And really, she makes so much noise when she's drunk. Wake the dead that one would - I noticed the difference almost immediately. The load that she had seemed to be carrying since she woke up had miraculously disappeared. She must have seen him. There was no other explanation. She wasn't _that_ drunk. Nothing else would get her this happy. Grinning to myself as I hid in the bathroom, I decided to wait until morning to ask her just what had made her so giddy...was that _giggling_ I heard from her room? Just as I was about to go against my decision, a text flashed up on my phone.

**Amy (Mobile) 02.17**

_Hey Becks, did Jo get home alright? :) xx_

My eyes widened as I realised what that meant. Amy wasn't in the taxi that had just left. I quickly tapped out a reply. _Yeah she's just in. Giggling in her room like a crazy woman - and it’s not the drink! What happened? :) xx_

The reply that came next further cemented my hypothesis. My jaw went slack as I processed what Amy's words meant.

**Amy (Mobile) 02.19**

_Ran into D in last pub (don't ask how we got there cos I dunno!) Should have seen her face when she realised what was going on. Never seen someone sober up so quickly in my life! teehee :) xx_

Realising I was wasting far too much time staring at my phone, I hastily typed my reply and hoped that Amy hadn't passed out into a drunken stupor. She may be texting coherently, but she was probably in a worse state than Jo.

**Meeeee :D (Mobile) 02.24**

_Details!! :) xx_

**Amy (Mobile) 02.26**

_Don't know if I should tell you :( xx_

**Meeeee :D (Mobile) 02.28**

_Do not pull that card on me Amy. What happened? :) xx_

**Amy (Mobile) 02.32**

_...there was a fight in the bar. (see why I don't frequent those places??) Stray bottle knocked David out (they were about two seconds from kissing and making up!!) She freaked out (understandably) someone called an ambulance. She went with him to the hosp, rest of us went home. Guessing he's okay by the giggling. Don't kill me - I'm drunk and will be hungover in the morning :) xx_

**Meeeee :D (Mobile) 02.36**

_Wow...Don't worry, your butt is safe from me! Have a feeling she's the one who decided on the pub + no one was hurt really. Can't help those things, will just need to hide it from mum! Hoping they still like each other in the morning :) xx_

**Amy (Mobile) 02.37**

_You and me both. Now if you excuse me theres leftover curry in the fridge with my name on it and then I'm away to pass out on the couch. :) xx_


	16. Seven Letters

It was a date. But it wasn’t a date.

  
  


Despite what had transpired in the hospital, neither of us was ready to say anything that could define our relationship out loud.

  
  


Almost all of the defining four letter words were taboo at the moment. _Date_. That was one. _Love_. There was another.

  
  


_Friends_. Seven letters. It was safe territory. It was definitely one we were more comfortable with. Before, it had been a source of disappointment and tension between us. Now, it was our newfound safety net.

  
  


There was nothing wrong with two _friends_ going out to dinner.

  
  


But then again at least we had a place to start, a foundation...

  
  


_You can't start a fire  
You can't start a fire without a spark  
This gun's for hire  
even if we're just dancing in the dark_


End file.
